UC-NRLF 


B    5    713    7M3 


MAIN 


THE 


PRIMA   DONNA: 


PASSAGE  FBOM  CITY  LIFE. 


BY  W.   G.    SIMMS, 

AUTHOR  OP  "GUY  RIVERS,"  "THE  YEM1H8E,"  "  RICIURD  HURDIS,"  ETC. 


Mtphistophcles.— Meihinko,  'twere  better  far, 
In  place  of  these  vain  wanderings  through  the  woods, 
Didst  thou  requite  the  monkey  for  her  love. 
The  hours  to  her  are  lamentably  long, — 
She  stands  beside  the  window,  day  by  day, 
To  watch  the  shapeless  clouds,  and  see  them  roll 
Away,  above  the  old  walls  of  the  town. 
"  Were  I  a  bird  !"-  thus  ever  runs  her  song 
Through  the  long  day  and  the  yet  longer  night:— 
A  moment  cheerful, — but  she  lapses  soon 
To  sadness,  which  in  lasting:  then  she  weeps 
'Till  tears  refuse  to  come :— then  quiet  seems, 
But  lovesick,  not  the  less. 

.— Oh,  serpent,  serpent!— GOBTHE'S FAUST. 


PHILADELPHIA: 

LOUIS    A.    GODEY, 

PUBLISHERS'  HALL,  No.  101  CHESTNUT  STREET. 
1844. 


p ; 

0U,Ov  *VA.  l  ; 

X.^L      i-; 

IS" ,     I  ^  '•?•  °  • 


Entered  according  to  the  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1844,  by 
LOUIS    A.    GODEY, 

in  the  office  of  the  Clerk  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  in  and  for 
the  Eastern  District  of  Pennsylvania. 


T.  K.  &  P.  O.  COLLINS,  PRINTERS. 


THE    PRIM  A    DONNA. 


CHAPTER  i. 


/\y\£r[ 


i 
N 


I  HAD  changed  my  lodgings,  seeking  shelter  in  the  suburbs,  from 
the  crowd  and  confusion  of  Broadway  and  the  Park.  The  om 
inous,  at  a  shilling  a  ride,  enabled  me,  while  enjoying  a  seclusion 
akin  to  that  of  country  lite,  to  seek  the  city  at  any  moment  when 
pleasure  or  business  called  me  thither.  The  second  morning  after 
my  transition,  I  suffered  myself  to  look  round  upon  my  new 
neighbourhood.  I  found  myself  in  very  good  quarters  for  a 
single  man.  Our  house  was  well  arranged  and  spacious.  It 
stood  apart  from  all  others,  while,  on  either  hand,  the  green  of  a 
well-stored  vegetable  garden  gratified  the  eye,  and  the  breezes 
from  two  quarters  of  the  compass  poured  in  at  my  windows.  We 
were  just  in  advance  of  the  onward  march  of  city  improvements. 
Our  pavements  were  incomplete,  and  the  clang  and  clamour  of 
cart,  cab  and  carriage,  were  moderate  accordingly,  when  com 
pared  with  the  stunning  sounds  with  which  they  momently  as 
sailed  rne  in  Broadway.  But,  as  if  to  qualify  this  advantage, 
there  was  just  opposite,  one  of  those  annoyances  which  are  to  be 
found  in  the  suburbs  of  every  large  city,  in  the  shape  of  a  cluster 
of  low,  crowded  and  filthy  looking  rookeries,  —  a  nest  of  wooden 
structures,  dingy,  dark,  narrow,  and  tumbling  to  decay,  which 
still,  however,  gave  shelter  to  a  crowd  of  inmates.  Every  tene 
ment  of  this  nest,  was  filled  from  basement  to  attic  ;  —  the  people 
were  of  the  very  poorest,  and  some  of  them,  evidently,  of  the 
most  dissolute,  character.  Rags  and  dirt  were  the  conspicuous 
badges  at  every  window,  and  no  prospect  could  be  more  melan 
choly  than  that  of  the  poor,  puny,  little  children,  who  were 
despatched  from  rise  of  morn  to  set  of  sun,  to  glean,  as  beggars, 
from  better  furnished  portions  of  the  city,  their  daily  supplies  of 
pennies  and  "cold  victuals." 

I  am  not,  however,  one  of  those  persons  who  sicken  at  the 
thousand  aspects  of  human  misery.  Some  experience  of  the 
world  and  its  vicissitudes,  acquired  at  a  period  when  other  men 
are  usually  about  to  begin  their  lessons,  had  fortified  my  senses, 
and  prepared  me  to  look  with  fortitude,  if  not  indifference,  upon 
those  evils  of  life  which  are  unhappily  inevitable.  I  did  not 
forego  the  prospect  from  the  window,  because  it  showed  me 
suffering  as  well  as  sunshine  ;  and,  if  I  could  not,  in  any  great 
degree,  alleviate  the  one,  I  saw  not,  in  consequence,  any  good 
reason  why  I  should  reject  or  forego  the  other.  My  morning 


4  THE  PRIMA  DONNA. 

and  afternoon  contemplations  included  the  <  rookeries.'  I  saw  the 
outgoings  and  incomings  of  their  motley  population,  and  acquired, 
after  a  moderate  period,  a  certain  degree  of  interest,  in  some  few 
of  the  several  inhabitants.  There  was  one  old  woman,  a  sturdy 
Meg  Merrilies  sort  of  body,  who  carried  out,  empty,  a  sack  some 
five  feet  in  length,  which  I  am  sure  she  always  brought  home  full. 
What  she  brought,  and  what  use  she  made  of  the  commodity,  1 
never  troubled  myself  to  inquire  or  even  to  conjecture.  The 
simple  appearance  of  the  old  dame  at  her  departure  and  return, 
was  enough  for  my  curiosity.  In  going  forth,  her  tongue  sounded 
an  alarum  to  the  whole  neighbourhood,  which  sufficiently  ap 
prised  it  of  that  important  event.  Very  different  was  the  manner 
of  her  return.  She  entered  without  beat  of  drum.  Her  tongue 
was  most  singularly  silent,  and  the  fierce,  consequential  air  with 
which  she  sallied  forth,  was  exchanged  for  that  of  the  most  quiet, 
meek  and  cautious  of  all  humble  adventurers.  She  was  not  my 
only  acquaintance  among  the  inhabitants  of  this  motley  settle 
ment.  There  was  a  great,  hulking,  heavily  built  person  most 
like  a  sailor  in  appearance,  but  one,  evidently  too  well  fed  to 
relish  a  frequent  journey  to  the  cross-trees,  who  also  secured  some 
portion  of  my  daily  consideration.  He,  too,  presented  himself 
under  different  aspects,  at  his  diurnal  periods  of  egress  and  return. 
In  the  first  case,  he  went  forth,  feeble,  tottering,  slightly  lamed, 
and,  I  think,  irrecoverably  blind  ; — a  decided  improvement,  how 
ever,  always  followed  his  morning  visit  to  the  city.  He  evidently 
met  with  Brandreth.  the  pill  dealer,  and  Williams,  the  oculist,  by 
the  way.  His  eye-sight  left  him  in  no  doubt  about  his  "home 
ward  bound"  course  ;  and  his  legs  were  then  better  able  to  pur 
sue  it.  This  was  the  more  remarkable,  as,  at  such  periods,  his 
arms  were  usually  filled  with  stuffs,  clothes,  food  and  fragments 
of  one  description  or  another,  in  such  quantity  and  weight  as 
might  have  given  a  more  vigorous  person  reason  to  stagger  be 
neath  the  burden.  He  evidently  pursued  his  craft  with  a  success 
which  convinced  me  that  he  might  have  arrived,  in  other  days, 
at  a  post  of  high  command  even  in  Alsatia.  There  were  other 
persons  in  this  community,  who,  in  their  places  and  periods,  also 
provoked,  though  in  a  far  less  degree,  my  observation  and  in 
quiry  ;  and  it  would  not,  perhaps,  be  a  very  difficult  matter,  were 
I  so  minded,  to  awaken  a  similar  interest  in  most  of  my  readers 
in  behalf  of  one  or  more  individuals  of  its  population,  quite  as 
mysterious  as  that  of  the  "  Stout  Gentleman,"  of  one  of  our  most 
graceful  writers,  whom  all  are  pleased  to  honour.  Certainly, 
there  were  physical  allotments  among  my  friends  of  the  <  rookery,' 
which,  alone,  were  suilicient  to  impress  the  spectator  with  heed 
ful  deference.  Brawny  arms  of  Hibernian  vigour  brandished  the 
broom,  and  flourished  in  the  suds.  Voices,  of  aristocratic  author 
ity,  rose  suddenly  and  stunningly  upon  the  senses,  and  never  did 
the  damsels  of  Eleusinia  declare  themselves  in  a  dialect  of  more 


THE  PRIMA  DONNA.  5 

unctuous  emphasis  and  spirit  in  the  hearing  of  assembled  Greece. 
Of  the  mysterious  character  of  those  business  operations  which 
were  pursued  among  them,  I  have  already  spoken.  A  very 
curious  scandal-monger  in  literature  might  live  for  months  in  the 
periodicals  by  examining  the  domestic  records  of  my  suburban 
neighbourhood. 

My  tastes  did  not  exactly  lead  me  to  institute  any  such  exam 
ination.  I  was  content  to  see  the  beauties  of  the  scene  afar  oiF. 
Morning  and  evening  glimpses  satisfied  my  curiosity ;  and  my 
old  woman  with  her  long  sack,  and  my  sturdy  sailor  with  his 
imperfect  eyesight,  upon  both  of  whom  such  radical  changes 
took  place  in  the  progress  of  each  diurnal  sun,  were  studies 
which  amply  requited  all  my  curious  cacoi'thes.  The  morning 
cries  and  clamour  of  the  former  aroused  me  from  sluggish  slum 
bers  ;  and  her  usual  period  of  return  at  evening,  was  equivalent 
to  the  tintinabulary  summons  to  my  evening  repast — both  of 
these  important  events  happening  to  occur  usually  at  the  same 
hour  of  the  day.  A  little  pleasurable  excitement,  which  was 
pleasurable,  perhaps,  only  because  of  the  excitement,  served  to 
reconcile  me  to  a  neighbourhood,  the  contemplation  of  which, 
while  it  failed  to  stimulate  curiosity,  did  not  contribute  to  the 
gratification  of  any  of  my  usual  tastes.  I  was  just  suflicicntly 
remote  from  the  scene  I  witnessed,  to  make  it  visible  to  me 
through  that  hallowing  medium  which  turns  the  past  into  poetry, 
and  elevates  the  foreign  into  dignity  and  grace.  I  must  confess 
to  a  reluctance  to  any  nearer  approximation,  which  was  so  strong 
as  to  prompt  me  to  make  use  of  the  back  door  of  my  lodging 
house,  in  the  greater  number  of  cases ;  and  to  seek,  by  a  street 
in  the  rear,  that  outlet  to  the  city,  which,  otherwise,  could  only 
have  been  marked  by  almost  actual  contact  with  the  suds  and 
sentiment  of  the  <  rookery.' 


CHAPTER  II. 

BUT  a  few  days  made  a  great  difference  in  my  mode  of  think 
ing  and  feeling  in  regard  to  some  of  the  persons  of  my  Alsatia. 
The  cries  and  clamors  of  which  I  have  spoken — as  the  familiar 
sounds  from  that  neighbourhood,  underwent  a  sweet  and  singu 
lar  modification.  A  new  and  very  different  voice  from  the  rest, 
aroused  me  one  morning  from  my  slumbers,  arid  drew  me  to  my 
window,  with  a  sentiment  of  pleasurable  anxiety,  which  was 
altogether  new  to  my  experience.  Such  a  voice — of  so  much 
power — so  much  sweetness — so  touching,  so  energetic,  at  once 
so  expansive  and  insinuating,  arch  and  tremulous — passionate, 
yet  full  of  the  most  gentle  fear. 

I  am  not  a  musician  myself.     I  am  neither  performer  nor  con- 


6  THE  PniMA  DONNA. 

noisseur,  nor  do  I  profess  to  have  any  great  passion  for  that  most 
pure  and  elevated  of  all  the  sensual  luxuries  : — but  I  should  have 
been  more  or  less  than  mortal  to  have  withstood  the 

"  Divine,  enchanting  ravishment," 

of  that  voice  whose  sudden  song,  penetrating  the  thick  folds  of 
sleep  which  enveloped  me,  commanded  me   to   rise   from  my 
couch  and  compelled  me  to  listen.     The  song  was  an  English 
one — one  of  those  simple  old  ballad  ditties,  the  taste  for  which 
has  undergone  some  revival  in  recent  days ; — but  the  air  was 
decidedly  foreign.     The  artifices  of  Italian  music  linked  with  the 
direct,  natural  and  earnest  language  of  English  poetry,  struck 
me  on  subsequent  reflection,  as  suggesting  a  moral  d:scord,  which 
was  unpleasant;  but,  while  tho  performance  lasted  I  was  not 
sensible  to  this  or  any  objection.     I  had  no  time  to  make  it — no 
feeling  for  dissent  or  dissatisfaction,  and  it  was  only,  long  after 
the  voice  became  silent,  that,  in  seeking  to  be  critical  I  found  any 
thing  to  qualify  its  complete  harmonies.     I  listened  breathlessly 
while  it  proceeded.     I  was  confounded  to  perceive  that  it  came 
from  a  hovel,  the  very  meanest  of  tho  group,  which  stood  almost 
in  the  centre  of  the  <  rookery.'     If  I  wondered,  however,  at  the 
first  moment  of  the  discovery,  I  had  no  time,  just  then,  to  yield 
myself  up  to  mere  astonishment.     Delight  occupied  all  the  emo 
tions  of  my  soul  ;  and  it  was  not  until  the  music  had  censed  for 
several  moments,  that  I  was  able  to  shake  myself  free  from  that 
overpowering  spell  which  its  sovereign  sweetness  had  imposed 
ui)oii  me,    It  was  only  when  my  ears  ceased  to  find  employment, 
that  my  eyes  began  to  resume  their  accustomed  exercise.     It 
was  only  then,  that,  in  examining  the  miserable  dwelling  from 
which  such  intoxicating  sounds  arose,  I  perceived  the  partial  pro 
file — at  one  of  the  low,  unsashed  windows — of  a  woman,  seem 
ingly  very  youthful,  in  whose  style  of  face,  I  fancied  I  discerned 
the  marked  outlines  of  the  English  character,  and  yet,  not  en 
tirely  English.     The  black  eyes — hair,  long  and  glossy,  of  the 
same  colour,  which  streamed  upon  a  neck  of  unusual  whiteness, 
seemed  to  distinguish  one  who  had  in  her  veins  a  warm,  rich 
tincture  of  Milesian  blood.     I  subsequently  discovered,  however, 
that  she  was  of  direct  English  parentage.     Still,  her  more  remote 
ancestors  might  have  come  from  the  sister  Isle. 

I  had  now  a  new  employment  for  my  vacant  hours,  and  a 
new  motive  for  the  survey  of  my  <  rookery.'  I  watched  and  lis 
tened  long  enough,  and  often  enough,  to  discover,  in  the  next  five 
days,  suilieient  cause  for  a  greatly-increased  wonderment.  The 
girl — for  she  was  young  enough  to  be  considered  under  this  head, 
— was  really  beautiful.  Her  appearance,  air,  manner  and  be 
haviour,  were  such,  also,  as  to  justify  the  belief  that  she  had 
come  of  good  family,  had  been  used  to  gentle  nurture,  and 
had  been  blessed  with  something  more  than  an  ordinary  educa- 


THE  PRIMA  DONNA.  7 

tion.  Yet  how  came  she  in  such  a  place — so  meanly  habited — 
so  poorly  tended — so  wretchedly  provided  for?  The  hovel 
which  she  occupied,  was  decidedly  one  of  the  meanest  of  the 
*row.'  The  apartment  in  which  I  usually  beheld  her,  and 
which  I  could  easily  overlook  from  mine,  was  almost  entirely 
without  furniture.  A  rude  box  beside  the  window  formed  the 
only  seat  which  I  perceived  it  to  contain;  and  the  bed,  the  foot 
of  which  was  all  that  I  could  see,  was  spread  out  upon  the 
floor.  The  wild  and  tender  ballad  which  she  sang — the  style  of 
her  performance — the  subdued  and  sweet  resignation  of  her 
countenance  the  while, — how  little  did  these  correspond  with  the 
wretched  state  of  every  thing  around  her  !  What  could  have 
brought  her  to  this  condition  ?  I  mused  over  this  question  long, 
and  approached  it  frequently.  The  answer  which  I  found  sel 
dom  satisfied  me.  I  was  unwilling  to  believe  that  mere  mis 
fortunes,  the  hazards  of  a  capricious  fate  alone,  could  have  so 
reduced  worth,  accomplishment  and  talent ; — and  yet,  how  diffi 
cult, — looking  on  her  face  of  angelic  purity  of  expression,  and  a 
placid  resignation  not  less  angelic, — to  believe  that  she  was  the 
victim  of  guilt — the  creature,  self-impelled  to  sin,  by  her  own 
bad  passions,  or  pliant  virtue. 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE  more  I  thought,  the  more  I  was  confused ;  and  I  became 
hourly  more  and  more  interested  in  the  subject.  My  caution 
and  my  studies,  and  sometimes  my  landlady  and  supper,  were 
equally  forgotten.  I  became  something  of  an  amateur  in  music ; 
though,  after  the  few  first  days,  my  eyes  were  probably  far  more 
busy  than  my  ears.  I  almost  lived  at  that  window  of  my  cham 
ber  which  looked  out  upon  the  ••rookery.'  My  own  movements, 
at  length,  came  to  be  almost  as  much  matter  of  observation  and 
scrutiny  to  others,  as  were  those  of  the  fair  singer  to  myself. 
Perhaps,  I  became  somewhat  indiscreet  in  the  watch  which  I 
kept  over  her.  Not  content  with  the  advantages  of  my  position, 
I  was  tempted  forth  at  evening  by  the  sweet  song  of  the  syren, 
and  without  determining  upon  my  movements,  by  the  exercise 
of  any  previous  thinking,  1  found  myself,  finally,  under  her  very 
window. 

This  was  a  stretch  of  freedom  rather  large  for  one  who  had 
usually  maintained,  in  his  conduct,  something  like  the  regimen 
of  a  purist.  It  was  an  indulgence,  the  exercise  of  which  soon 
brought  me  a  rebuke,  which,  if  it  did  not  fully  answer  the  in 
tended  purpose,  of  chiding  me  back  to  my  own  territory,  at  least 
served  to  remind  me  that  I  was  an  invader  of  that  of  another. 
The  second  time  that  I  ventured  to  cross  the  street  and  place 


8  TJTE  PJUMA  DONNA. 

myself  beneath  the  window  of  the  musician,  she  was  engaged 
in  a  touching  little  ditty,  which  I  had  never  heard  before,  and 
the  mournful  sweetness  of  which  brought  to  my  soul  as  I  lis 
tened  a  most  luscious  sentiment  of  grief.  Perhaps  I  should  have 
been  amply  satisfied  to  listen  from  my  own  chamber,  had  not 
the  tones  of  her  voice  been  unusually  low.  There  was,  that 
ni^ht,  a  faintness  in  her  utterance  which  seemed  to  denote*  a  full 
feeling  in  her  heart  of  the  sorrowful  sentiment  which  other  lips 
only  sung.  An  (indefinable  curiosity  made  me  throw  by  my 
books,  extinguish  my  lamp,  put  on  my  cap,  and  steal  forth  to 
the  '  rookery/  The  evening  was  dark — a  faint  starlight  through 
apertures  in  .1  dense  mass  of  sullen  clouds  served  only  to  confuse 
tho  aspects  of  general  objects ; — and  secure,  as  I  fancied  myself, 
from  all  observation,  I  crossed  the  street,  and  placed  myself 
against  a  lamp-post  which  stood  in  front  of  the  miserable 
dwelling.  Here  I  had  not  been  many  minutes  before  the  music 
ceased.  I  could  hear  a  brief  conversation  carried  on  in  low  but 
harsh  tones  in  the  apartment  which  had  been  so  lately  the 
prison  of  the  sweetest  song.  The  mean  light  of  the  chamber 
seemed  extinguished,  and  while  I  waited  for  the  strain  to  bo 
resinned,  the  door  below  suddenly  opened,  and  I  was  abruptly 
confronted  by  one,  who,  emerging  from  the  dwelling,  in  almost 
rude  accents,  demanded  my  business. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THERE  was  surely  something  very  impertinent  in  the  demand. 

I  had,  by  the  common  law,  quite  as  much  right  to  be  where  he 

found  me  as  any  body,  so  loni;  as  my  presence  did  not  conllict  with 

the  similar  rights  of  any  cth'jr  citizen.     The  querist  was  a  man, 

slight  0*"  frame,  apparently  decrepid  in  his  limbs,  and  evidently  an 

Italian.     I  could  see  by  the  lamplight,  in  the  full  glare  of  which 

lie  stood,  that  he  was  violently  agitated.     His  thin,  dark  features 

were  almost  convulsed — his  lips  quivered,  and  his  eyes  emitted 

a  fiery  gleam,  in  which  I  fancied  that  I  beheld  the  expression  of 

a  very  malignant  and  personal  hostility.     This  was  all  matter  of 

very  curious  surprise  to  me,  and  it  was  only,  I  suppose,  because 

of  my  exceeding  surprise,  that  I  did  not,  at  the  first  moment,  resent 

the  impertinence  of  his  demand.     It  maybe  that  I  felt  also,  that, 

however  justly,  according  to  law,  I  might  maintain  my  position 

where  I  was,  in  spite  of  him  or  any  body  else,  yet  that,  in  my 

heart,  and  some  of  its  desires,  I  was,  in  truth,  a  trespasser  upon 

his  rights.     I  certainly  longed  to  get  into  his  household — if  it 

were  his, — and  to  gaze  my  fill,  at  the  sweet  prisoner-bird  thereof. 

That  she  was  a  caged  songstress,  I  could  not  allow  myself  to 

doubt.     I  had  caught,  during  the  day,  more  than  one  glimpse  of 


THE  PRIMA  DONNA.  9 

her  sweet,  sad  countenance ;  and  I  fancied,  more  than  once,  that 
I  read  in  her  eyes  as  they  encountered  mine,  the  yearning  to 
he  free.  Perhaps,  in  this  reading  of  her  eyes,  my  boyish  vanity 
led  rne  to  fancy  that  I  saw  a  great  deal  more.  Perhaps — but 
there  will  always  be  time  enough  for  the  confessional.  Enough 
to  say  that  my  conscience  somewhat  interfered  in  the  desire 
which  I  certainly  should  have  felt  under  other  circumstances,  of 
knocking  my  impertinent  querist  into  the  gutter,  in  answer  to  his 
demand. 

As  the  matter  was,  I  hesitated — actually  stammered,  and  failed 
to  reply  in  a  satisfactory  manner  either  to  him  or  to  myself,  until 
provoked  to  a  right  feeling  of  resolution  by  the  repetition,  in 
broken  English,  of  his  inquiry  : — 

"What  you  do  here?  What  you  want?"  The  style  of  the 
question  was  unbearable — the  manner  in  which  his  face  was 
thurst  forward  into  mine,  was  not  to  be  endured,  and  I  boldly 
blunted  out  the  truth,  or  that  which  was  truth, perse,  with  a  look 
and  accent  of  defiance. 

"  I  stop  here  because  it  pleases  me — because  I  wish  to  hear 
the  music." 

"  All,  ha  ! — it  please  you,  dis  music,  eh  ?  But  you  shall  be  go 
to  you  place — you  shall  nevare  come  stop  here,  no  more, — 
nevare  !" 

And  the  shrivelled,  angry,  bilious,  fiery-eyed  little  fellow,  shook 
his  finger  almost  in  my  face. 

Human  stomach  could  not  stand  this,  and  an  involuntary 
emotion  caused  me  to  double  my  fist  and  raise  my  arm,  with  an 
action  which  left  him  in  little  doubt  of  rny  summary  intentions. 
He  receded  at  the  sight,  and,  as  I  fancied,  in  order  to  eifect  a 
retreat  as  abrupt  as  had  been  his  entrance  upon  the  scene ;  but  I 
•was  mistaken.  It  was  only  the  better  to  prepare  himself  for 
defence.  In  another  moment  a  stiletto  glittered  in  his  hand,  and 
he  assumed  an  attitude  of  the  most  determined  preparation.  This 
would  not  have  discouraged  me, — for  I  was  conscious  that  a 
frame  evidently  so  feeble  as  his,  armed  with  any  weapon,  the  use 
of  which  depended  upon  his  muscle,  could  not  oppose  much 
obstacle  to  the  blow  of  an  arm  like  mine,  endowed  with  no  small 
share  of  masculine  vigour,  and  under  the  direction,  too,  of  some 
small  science,  the  due  result  of  an  occasional  exercise,  in  a  very 
good  school  of  the  fancy.  I  felt  confident  that  I  could  have 
<:  muffled  his  skylights"  in  a  single  instant,  arid  long  before  his 
Italian  weapon  could  be  brought  to  bear  upon  the  action.  But 
a  moment's  reflection  convinced  me  how  seriously  foolish  would 
be  any  conduct  which  would  bring  me  into  a  street-brawl  with 
one  like  my  opponent — so  feeble  in  person — so  superior  in  years — 
and  so  wretched  in  his  condition.  My  arm  was  instantly  lowered, 
and,  murmuring  something  of  a  disinclination  to  chastise  age, 
however  impertinent,  I  was  about  to  draw  off  from  the  ground 


10  THE  PBIMA  DONNA. 

and  seek  my  own  proper  bulwarks.  But  he  was  not  disposed  to 
suffer  this  ;  availing  himself  of  a  change  in  my  position,  which 
half  removed  my  lace  from  him,  he  sprang  towards  me, — with 
what  purpose  I  could  only  conjecture.  I  had  just  time  to  turn 
and  grasp  his  uplifted  arm,  from  which  1  wrenched  the  weapon. 
In  another  moment,  such  was  my  indignation,  I  might  have  used 
it  upon  him ;  but  I  was  happily  spared  this  folly,  by  the  sudden 
appearance,  from  the  house,  of  the  young  woman  who  had  been 
the  innocent  occasion  of  all  this  diiliculty.  At  her  approach  I 
withdrew  the  grasp  which  I  had  taken"  upon  the  fellow.  He 
trembled  like  an  aspen  in  the  wind.  His  teeth  chattered— with 
rage,  not  fear.  He  shook  his  impertinent  linger  at  me  in  hate 
and  defiance ;  and  when  the  hand  of  the  woman  was  put  upon 
his  shoulder,  as  she  threw  herself  between  us,  he  flung  her  from 
him  with  a  degree  of  violence,  which  almost  renewed  in  my  heart 
the  desire  to  pummel  him.  The  next  moment  he  grasped  her 
about  the  body  and  dragged  her  within  the  entrance.  Her  eyes 
were  turned  full  upon  me  while  she  was  passing  from  sight ;  and 
it  was  a  small  solace  to  my  feelings  at  that  instant,  to  fancy,  as  1 
did,  that  there  was  any  thing  but  unkindness  for  me  in  their 
expression.  I  was  but  a  youth  at  that  period,  and  the  vanity  which 
seems  natural  enough  to  youth,  must  not  be  visited  by  the  reader 
with  too  harsh  an  expression  of  opinion. 


CHAPTER  V. 

HOWEVER  ruffled  I  might  have  been  by  this  event,  there  was 
yet  something  in  it  which  soothed  and  satisfied  me.  The  heart 
of  man  is  a  very  selfish  substance,  even  in  its  impulses  of  greatest 
generosity.  Perhaps,  in  a  world,  in  which  so  superior  and  vast 
a  proportion  of  the  performance  depends  upon  man,  it  is  not  un 
fitting  that  it  should  be  so.  He  must  be  impelled  by  influences 
of  self  even  to  the  execution  of  those  social  achievements  which 
would  seem  to  be  most  universal  in  their  tendencies  and  aims. 
But  this  is  no  place  to  philosophize.  It  is  enough  for  me  to  con 
fess  that  I  found  pleasure  in  the  conviction  that  the  unknown 
songstress  was  unhappy,  without  finding  it  a  cause  of  unhappi- 
ness  to  meet  my  glance — that  she  dwelt  with  one  who  was  evi 
dently  not  satisfied  with  her;  and  with  whom — she  being  the 
creature  of  taste  and  sensibility  which  I  readily  assumed  her  to 
be — she  could  still  less  be  satisfied.  But  in  what  relation  did 
they  stand  to  one  another?  This  was  a  mystery  to  rne  which 
brought  with  it  feelings  of  disquietude  and  pain.  He  was  old 
enough  to  be  her  father.  Was  he  so?  I  would  have  given 
something — though  I  knew  not  wherefore — could  I  have  be 
lieved  it.  I  prayed,  unconsciously,  that  she  was  not  his  \vife, — 


THE  PRIMA  DONNA.  11 

and  shuddered,  the  next  moment,  with  the  apprehension  that  she 
might  be  something  less,  and  something  worse. 

For  two  days  after  this  I  heard  no  music,  and  in  all  this  time 
the  windows  remained  closely  fastened.  I  saw  nothing  of  the 
songstress; — but  the  man, to  whom  I  now  addressed  no  moderate 
degree  of  my  attention,  but  whom  before,  though  I  had  seen,  I 
had  scarcely  noted — he  went  forth  as  usual,  just  after  my  break 
fast  hour  had  been  passed.  1  took  the  precaution  now,  to  do 
my  espionage  through  the  blinds  of  my  window,  which  I  kept 
as  carefully  closed  as  my  opposite  neighbour.  1  could  see  that 
his  eyes  were  cast  upwards  as  he  passed  out  and  came  in,  and  I 
readily  conjectured,  that,  having  noted  my  constant  watchful 
ness  from  the  window,  the  quick  instinct  of  jealousy  converted 
rny  appearance  at  night  beneath  his,  into  proofs,  and 

"  Confirmation  strong  as  holy  writ," 

of  evil  purposes  contemplated,  and,  possibly,  evil  deeds  per 
formed.  Yet,  truly,  did  I  mean  no  evil.  At  the  worst,  that  sus 
ceptible  vanity  of  the  youthful  heart  which  makes  it  equally 
ready  to  exercise  its  own,  and  to  believe  that  the  affections  of 
another  are  sympathetically  awakened,  was  all  my  error.  The 
strange  surprise  of  hearing  such  music,  and  seeing  such  a  face,  in 
such  a  dwelling,  was,  perhaps,  more  than  any  thing  beside,  the 
source  of  that  interest  which  the  songstress  awakened  in  my 
bosom.  Had  she  come  and  gone,  without  bringing  about  the 
annoying  little  incident  just  mentioned,  she  would  most  probably 
have  been  nothing  more  in  my  eyes  and  thought,  than  any  other 
among  the  "sweet  singers  of  Israel." 


CHAPTER  VI. 

IT  was  impossible,  now,  that  I  should  feel  any  such  indiffer 
ence.  Curiosity  was  awakened,  within  me,  and  sharpened  into 
activity  all  those  other  emotions  which  had  been  merely  roused 
before.  Every  thing  about  her  lowly  household  had  now  an  in 
terest  in  my  sight  which  kept  me  feverishly  alive  to  every  sound 
which  reached  my  ears  from,  and  every  movement  of  life  which 
took  place  in,  that  quarter.  Her  ugly,  little,  bilious-faced  and 
fiery -eyed  protector,  was,  in  particular,  an  object  of  excessive 
concern  with  me ;  and  I  followed  his  rickety  movements,  as  he 
went  abroad,  and  was  careful  to  scrutinize  them  as  he  returned 
home,  as  if  it  were  possible  for  me  to  derive  from  such  a  scrutiny 
a  knowledge  of  those  secrets  which  had  become  so  annoyingly 
worth  knowing.  I  was  not  long,  however,  permitted  to  main 
tain  this  watch  upon  his  movements.  On  the  third  morning 
after  the  uight  on  which  we  had  encountered,  I  was  impressed 


12  THE  PRIM  A  DONNA. 

with  the  conviction,  after  resuming  my  usual  post  of  survey  at 
my  window,  that  the  dwelling  of  the  suspicious  pair  was  no 
longer  occupied.  An  air  of  unusual  stillness  overspread  the 
establishment.  The  windows  and  doors  were  all  sealed  up  and 
silent.  No  smoke  ascended  from  the  chimney — no  voice  re 
sounded  from  the  enclosure — no  old  woman  knocked  at  the  gate 
for  entrance — nobody  went  in  and  nobody  came  out.  It  pre 
sented  a  lamentable  contrast  to  the  busy  hum  of  the  thick  clus 
tering  hive  around  it.  I  waited  with  some  impatience  for  the 
breakfast  hour.  I  hurried  through  the  meal  without  asking 
whether  I  had  satisfied  appetite,  and  certainly  without  doing 
justice  to  my  landlady's  coflee  biggin.  I  hastened  back  to  my 
window,  and  waited  for  the  customary  departure  of  my  male 
neighbour  on  his  daily  journey.  Ho  failed  to  appear  as  usual ; 
and  I  was  pained  to  think  that  I  should  hear  no  more  music 
from  the  lips  of  the  sweet,  but  melancholy  stranger.  My  fears 
were  well-grounded.  My  venerable  landlady  congratulated  her 
self  at  dinner,  that  those  noisy  people,  across  the  street,  who 
sang  so  loud,  had  moved  away  under  cover  of  the  last  night— 
the  latter  circumstance  being  one  that  awakened  all  the  good  old 
lady's  apprehensions  for  the  security  of  the  rent  due  ;  in  which  an 
old  lady  of  like  dimensions  with  herself,  had,  it  appears,  con 
siderable  interest.  But  even  this  fear  did  not  diminish  her  satis 
faction  at  the  removal  when  she  recollected  her  escape  from  the 
music  which  annoyed  her.  The  other  sounds  from  the 'rook 
ery,' — vile,  various  and  discordant  as  they  were — never  of 
fended  a  single  sense  in  her  whole  system.  They  were  natural 
and  familiar,  and,  like  certain  other  natural  and  familiar  objects, 
they  "  signified  love." 

But  to  me  this  confirmation  of  my  fears  brought  with  it  a 
degree  of  discomposure  for  which  I  was  myself  unprepared.  I 
had  sustained  a  loss,  which  pressed  for  the  moment  heavily  upon 
me  ; — the  loss  of  that  object  of  secret  sympathy  which  responds 
to  our  emotions,  though  in  tears  that  we  are  not  permitted  to 
see,  and  in  sighs  that  we  cannot  hear.  I  felt  the  privation  so 
seriously,  and  my  curiosity  had  been  so  highly  stimulated,  that  I 
could  no  longer  keep  within  the  house,  and  actually  sallied  forth, 
on  the  wild-goose  chase  of  looking-up  the  fugitives  in  such  a  city 
as  New  York. 

A  few  hours  ramble  soon  cured  me  of  this  folly,  though  it 
failed  to  bring  me  to  my  senses.  I  gave  up  the  search  after  per 
sons  whose  names  I  did  not  know,  and  who,  if  they  had  not  left 
the  city,  could  only  have  found  shelter  in  some  one  of  the 
thousand  purlieus  of  destitution  which  cover  its  filthy  spots.  I 
returned  home  soured  and  dissatisfied,  and  went  back,  in  sheer 
doggedness  of  purpose,  to  my  solitude  and  studies. 


THE  PRIM  A  DONNA.  13 


CHAPTER  VII. 

IT  may  have  been  three  weeks,  or  more,  after  this,  that  there 
was  a  great  stir  in  New  York  about  a  foreign  Prima  Donna— a 
singer  whose   excellence  was   equally  indisputable   and   great. 
The  newspapers  which,  in  such  matters,  usually  speak  in  the 
superlative  style  of  Euphrosine,  and  in  words  as  magnificent  as 
those  of  Brobdignag,  now,  in  the  excessive  warmth  of  their  en 
thusiasm,  happened  upon  a  newer  set  of  phrases,  which  left  the 
ancient  forms  of  eulogy  far  behind   them.     The   fountains  of 
public  admiration  were  opened.     The  praises  of  the  nc\v  candi 
date  for  applause  and  sixpences,  sounded  from  the  high  places  of 
authority,  were  heard  repeated  at  every  corner.    The  singer  was 
pronounced  to  be  one  who  could  sing  louder,  squeak  longer,  and 
prolong  the  note  through  a  more  numerous  and  symmetrical  set  of 
quavers  than  any  vocalist  of  past  or  present  celebrity.    She  was, 
in  short,  the  last  lion  of  the  town,  and  absorbed  in  her  own  glory, 
for  a  season,  its  thousand  phrases  of  hyperbole. 

As  a  general  rule  I  never  suffer  myself  to  do  as  all  the  town 
docs ;  but  on  this  occasion  I  fell  into  the  current  and  went  for 
ward  with  the  stream.  I  had  my  reasons,  apart  from  any  cu 
riosity  cither  to  see  the  lion  or  to  hear  his  roar,  which  induced 
me  to  depart  from  my  wonted  resolution.  I  fancied  that  the 
music  of  the  new  performer  would  impair  my  recollection  of  the 
old,  and  do  away  with  the  impression  of  that  which  I  had  lost  so 
suddenly.  Up  to  this  time  I  still  deceived  myself  with  the  fancy 
that  all  my  interest  in  the  unknown  creature  whom  I  so  much 
missed,  had  been  the  pure  result  of  her  musical  sweetness  and 
superiority.  I  went — the  house  was  full  to  overflowing — all 
hearts  save  my  own  were  full  of  expectancy  and  impatience. 
The  curtain  rose — the  crowd  roared  and  clapped.  With  an  in 
difference  the  most  unfashionable,  I  looked  up  at  the  performer, 
and  beheld  in  the  famous  Prima  Donna,  my  own  musical  Un 
known  ! 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

IT  may  be  readily  imagined  that  my  indifference,  from  that 
instant,  disappeared.  I  was  now  all  eyes  and  ears  and  devoted 
attention.  1  drank  in  every  sound,  watched  every  expression, 
and  was  ready  to  believe  any  extravagance  which  the  public 
enthusiasm  might  exhibit  or  express.  She  was  triumphant  in 
her  performances  that  night.  She  was  said,  by  the  critics,  even 
to  have  surpassed  herself.  Opinion  had  but  one  voice,  and  that 
was  admiration ;  feeling  but  one  emotion,  and  that  was  love.  She 
2 


14  THE  PRIM  A  PONXA. 

was,  indeed,  a  most  lovely  creature.  Her  form,  which  I  now 
beheld  entire,  and  in  a  perfect  light,  for  the  first  time,  was  on?, 
harmoniously  rounded  into  grace,  whose  every  movement  seemed 
to  swell  into  expression.  She  looked  admirably  the  character 
she  played — for  the  time  she  was — one  of  those  sylphs  of  the 
moonlight  and  the  sea,  which  breathed  in  poetic  spirituality  from 
the  works  of  the  ancient  masters  of  English  romance.  Nor  was 
the  intellectual  spirituality  of  her  appearance,  lessened  by  the 
unvarying  sadness  which  prevailed  upon  her  countenance, — 
a  sadness  not  unfitly  suited  to  the  looks  of  a  being  otherwise 
pure  and  designing  to  be  so, — bom  for  heaven,  and  ultimately 
secure  of  it,  but  whom,  a  single,  sad  lapse,  has  banished  into  short 
but  painful  exile  from  its  bright  and  blessing  abodes. 

I  cannot  say  that  I  listened  to,  or  even  heard,  the  music.  The 
scat  which  I  occupied  was  in  the  pit,  and  so  near  to  the  footlights 
— the  orchestra  being  between,  that  I  could  note  every  change  in 
the  expression  of  her  face.  I  may  have  deceived  myself,  but  I 
certainly  fancied,  that  she  at  length  saw  mine.  If  she  did,  she 
read  a  volume  in  the  quivering  of  my  lip — in  the  tearful  admira 
tion  of  my  eye.  There  was  one  period  in  her  performance  when 
I  know  that  she  beheld  me.  She  had  advanced  to  the  outer  edge 
of  the  procenium  in  obedience  to  the  action  of  the  piece.  My 
emotions  had  been  gaining  strength  for  a  considerable  time  before. 
Heedless  of  the  impropriety  I  had  risen  from  my  seat,  and  with 
out  a  consciousness  of  my  folly  until  forcibly  drawn  back  to  my 
place  by  some  one  behind  me,  my  motion  towards  the  stage  had 
corresponded  entirely  with  hers.  The  good  people  ascribed  to  a 
music  frenzy  the  absurdity  of  my  conduct.  But  she — she  knew 
better;  she  saw  the  movement  of  my  person — she  beheld  the 
outstretched  action  of  my  hand,  and  never  could  intelligence  like 
hers,  mistake  the  unequivocal  language  in  my  eye.  Her  coun 
tenance  changed  on  the  instant — I  could  see  that,  though  I  could 
see  little  else — her  cheeks  became  Hushed,  her  lips  trembled  and 
her  voice  for  the  first  time  faltered  as  she  sung,  while  her  eye 
was  fixed  upon  me  with  a  tearful  but  sweet  intensity  of  gaze. 

Let  it  be  remembered  that  I  was  little  more  than  a  boy  at  this 
period — that  I  had  seen  very  little  of  the  witchery  of  dramatic 
representation — that  I  had  no  sort  of  suspicion  of  guile  in  the 
heart  of  one,  who  could  personate  innocence  and  grief  quite  as 
truly  as  her  own  form  and  features  personated  loveliness — that  I 
looked  upon  the  ideal  in  all  things,  and  knew  nothing  of  the  real; 
and  believed  that  truth  was  an  undoubted  presence,  for  ever 
manifested  where  it  was  professed.  To  those  who  havo  been 
once  young,  I  need  not  undertake  to  account  for  this  confidence 
in  the  humanities — to  those  who  are  still  young,  there  will  be  no 
need  for  me  to  make  any  such  attempt.  "Enough  that  I  looked, 
listened  and  believed.  I  will  not  say  that  I  loved.  I  am  not  sure 
that  there  is  any  passion  in  the  heart  of  man  worthy  of  the  name 


THE  PRIMA  DONNA.  15 

of  love,  until  the  character  is  fixed  by  experience,  and  the  heart 
subdued  by  some  degree  of  suffering.  Perhaps  it  will  be  quite 
enough  to  admit  that  my  passions  were  active — my  sensibilities 
— without  referring  to  any  more  subtle  influence. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

I  WAITED  with  indescribable  impatience  for  the  close  of  the, 
performance,  and  was  the  first,  when  she  retired  from  the  stage, 
to  leave  the  theatre.  I  went  round  and  stationed  myself  at  the 
place  of  private  egress.  My  former  adventure  under  her  window 
had  taught  me  to  be  cautious,  and  I  took  care  to  place  myself 
as  much  in  shadow  as  possible.  Here  I  watched  and  waited, 
counting  the  moments  as  if  they  had  been  hours,  and  even  re 
proaching  the  object  of  my  admiration,  as  if  she  had  known  that 
I  awaited  her.  In  reality  there  was  no  great  delay.  It  might 
have  been  a  half  hour  after  her  share  in  the  performance  was 
ended  when  she  came  forth,  conducted  by  her  ancient  protector. 
They  passed  close  beside  me,  her  garments  brushed  against  me, 
and  her  eye,  keen  and  quickened,  as  I  fancied  by  feelings  like 
my  own,  rested  full  upon  my  face.  Involuntarily,  she  seemed  to 
pause,  and  I  trembled  with  a  secret  joy  which  the  restraints  upon 
it  seemed  to  heighten.  Her  attendant,  however,  hurried  her  for 
ward,  fortunately  without  beholding  me,  and  I  only  lingered 
long  enough  behind  to  avoid  awakening  his  suspicions. 

I  had  not  far  to  follow  them.  At  the  corner  of  the  same  street 
a  carriage  stood  in  waiting,  into  which  she  entered,  closely  fol 
lowed  by  her  protector.  Vainly  did  I  stretch  my  head  forward 
to  catch  the  words  of  direction  which  he  uttered  to  the  driver. 
My  hope  was  about  to  be  defeated,  and  ail  my  labour  taken  in 
vain.  There  was  but  a  single  alternative.  I  bounded  forward 
lightly,  and,  amidst  the  rattle  of  the  carriage  as  it  rolled  away 
from  the  stand,  placed  myself  upon  the  ilat  in  the  rear  without 
detection. 

Our  course  lay  toward  the  suburbs,  but  on  a  side  of  the  city  as 
far  as  possible  from  that  which  they  had  left.  My  anxieties 
while  we  rode  were  prodigious.  I  heard  the  occasional  words 
which  were  spoken  by  those  within  the  vehicle — those  of  the 
man  were  most  frequent, — hers  were  monosyllables  only,  and  so 
faintly  spoken  that  1  could  not  divine  their  character.  I  would 
have  given  worlds  to  have  risen  upon  the  fiat  and  looked  in  upon 
the  ill-connected  couple,  but  I  dared  not  incur  the  risk  of  such  a 
movement.  At  length  we  approached  our  stopping  place.  The 
speed  of  the  horses  was  lessened — the  carriage  was  about  to 
stop,  and  I  leapt  to  the  ground  in  anticipation  of  this  event.  A 
tree,  one  of  the  few  which  city  improvements  had  left  in  the 


16  THE  PRIMA  DONNA. 

neighbourhood,  yielded  me  a  covering  from  which  I  beheld 
without  difficulty  the  new  place  of  retreat  which  the  fugitives 
had  chosen.  The  edifice  itself  in  which  they  lived  was  of  that 
better  sort,  which  amply  testified  to  the  successes  and  improved 
fortunes  of  the  Prima  Donna.  It  was  now  of  brick,  newly  built, 
two  stories  in  height,  with  green  blinds,  a  small  verandah  on  the 
southern  side,  and  a  little  patch  of  green  sward  in  front.  You 
passed  to  the  door  of  the  dwelling  through  a  low  white  paling 
gate,  upon  a  neatly  gravelled  walk  edged  with  box,  trimmed 
grenadier  fashion,  in  still',  slender  and  unbroken  lines.  I  made 
these  observations  that  night  after  the  departure  of  the  carriage. 
J  gave  myself  ample  time  for  the  survey,  for  it  grew  rapidly  to 
the  srnal1  hours  of  the  morning  before  1  left  the  spot  and  returned 
to  my  own  lodging  house. 

Shall  I  confess  my  folly?  The  next  night  found  me  again  at 
the  theatre,  and  every  night  on  which  she  did  not  perform,  I  was 
a  ghostlike  stalker  through  the  lonely  street — to  me  not  lonely — 
in  which  she  lived.  She  saw  me  not — she  knew  not  of  my 
proximity,  though  I  sometimes  fancied,  with  the  vanity  of  a 
youthful  spirit,  that  she  suspected  it.  She  had  seen  mo  at  tho 
theatre — she  had  seen  me  beneath  the  lamp  on  the  night  when  I 
followed  her  home.  She  could  not  doubt  the  admiration  which 
was  expressed  by  my  action  and  my  eyes,  and  surely,  she  knew 
enough  of  the  nature  of  man  to  know  that  where  his  heart  is, 
there  will  his  form  be  also.  I  drew  conviction,  on  this  head,  from 
another  fact.  Nightly  and  constantly  she  sang  while  I  traversed 
the  p(tr(>.  before  her  dwelling ;  and  the  strains  were  those  of  a  sad 
tenderness,  of  a  heart  pouring  forth  the  irrepressible  moans  of  a 
defeated  love.  At  the  theatre,  her  eyes — so  1  persuaded  myself — 
frequently  sought  out  mine;  and  it  seemed  to  me,  at  such  mo 
ments,  that  her  song  trembled,  and  her  voice  became  subdued, 
even  though  the  burden  of  the  music  called  for  the  greatest  exer 
tion  of  her  powers.  How  small  and  shadowy  are  the  tokens 
which  persuade  the  youthful  imagination  into  confidence  and 
hope  ! 


CHAPTER   X. 

THE  passion  which  this  girl  had  awakened  in  my  bosom  was 
such  as  to  lead  me  to  a  complete  departure  from  many  of  my 
usual  habits.  I  now  remembered  certain  old  acquaintance 
among  the  editorial  fraternity — clever,  good-humoured  fellows — 
who,  I  well  knew,  possessed  carte  blanche  at  all  the  theatres. 
One  of  these,  in  particular, — a  vivacious  literary  and  political 
writer — a  fellow  who  could  write  a  comedy  alter  supper  and  a 
review  before  breakfast,  and  who  was  sufficiently  popular  in  the 


THE  PRIMA  DONNA.  17 

community  to  do  as  lie  pleased  with  every  body — had  been  a 
frequent  companion  of  my  idle  hours  during  my  first  acquaint 
ance  with  New  York.  Him  I  had  seen  frequently  at  the  theatre 
while  my  inamorata  was  playing,  and  his  voice,  through  the 
medium  of  his  papers,  had  been  one  of  the  loudest  in  her  eulogy. 
I  resolved  on  renewing  my  acquaintance  with  him,  and  availing 
myself,  as  far  as  I  could,  of  the  privileges  which  he  possessed  to 
procure  some  of  those  which  1  desired.  I  did  accordingly.  I 
called  on  him,  and  after  listening  to  his  good-humoured  reproaches 
at  what  he  was  pleased  to  call  my  neglect  of  old  friends,  I  plainly 
told  him  what  I  came  for.  I 'wished  an  introduction  to  the 
Prima  Donna. 

"  Ah,  ha  !"  said  lie — "so  you  too  are  among  the  thousand  in 
the  meshes  of  Mam'sclle  ." 

"She  is  then  unmarried ?"  I  exclaimed — "she  is  not  the  wife 
of " 

"  The  little  old  Othello  that  lias  her  in  keeping  !  Well !  of  that 
the  least  said  the  better.  We  know  nothing.  Enough  to  tell  you 
that  she  passes  for  his  wife,  and  for  aught  that  any  body  knows 
in  New  York,  she  may  be." 

"  Hut  you  call  her  <  Mam'sclle  ?'  " 

"  True,  but  that  means  nothing.  A  miss  is  always  more  at 
tractive  in  theatrical  parlance  than  a  mistress ;  and  I  have  known. 
in  Green  Room  history,  a  woman  who  had  buried  eleven  hus 
bands,  more  or  less,  who  never  once  changed  her  maiden  name 
in  the  bills !  This  is  only  a  trick  of  trade,  and  the  stage,  as  you 
should  know,  has,  perhaps,  a  hundred  and  one  tricks  beyond  any 

other  craft  or  profession.     Mam'selle is  assuredly  married 

to  the  little  old  Italian  ;  and  if  not  married " 

A  shrug  of  the  shoulder  finished  the  sentence  of  my  editorial 
friend,  very  little  to  my  satisfaction. 

"  The  story  goes,"  he  continued,  "  that  lie  happened  upon  the 
poor  girl  in  London,  while  in  a  state  of  great  destitution,  just  after 
she  had  lost  a  mother,  or  while  the  mother  was  in  the  last  stages 
of  decay.  That  he  provided  them  with  present  means,  and 
availing  himself  of  their  necessities,  married  the  girl, " 

"  Against  her  will  ?"  I  interrupted. 

"No — not  so — against  her  wish,  perhaps,  but  not  against  her 
will.  Destitution,  and  poverty,  and  hunger,  have  no  will  in  such 
a  place  as  London;  and  famine  will  reconcile  a  girl,  however 
lovely,  to  a  very  strange  connection.  Mam'selle,  who  is  English 
by  birth,  was  thus  persuaded  to  couple  with  this  Italian,  who 
makes  himself  very  ridiculous  here  by  his  jealousies,  lie  has 
already  had  a  dozen  quarrels  where  he  had  no  cause  for  one ; 
fo/,  though  the  girl  is  a  sort  of  rage  at  present — a  distinction 
which  she  owes  more  to  me  than  to  herself — yet  she  is  not  de 
luded  by  applause,  and  takes  it  as  humbly  as  if  she  knew  its  real 
value  as  well  as  the  oldest  veteran  among  us.  If  you  really 

2* 


18  THE  PRIM  A  DONNA. 

desire  un  introduction,  after  what  you  have  heard,  I  don't  see" 
that  there  will  be  any  difficulty.     She  will  be  at  rehearsal  to-day 
at  12,  M.,  and  the  matter  can  be  easily  managed." 

I  readily  embraced  the  proposition.     lie  continued: 

"A  week  more  will  finish  her  career  in  New  York.  The  rage 
now,  she  will  soon  give  place  to  another  novelty,  and  in  ten  days 
more  be  among  the  things  that  were.  We  are  to  have,  by  the 
next  packet,  a  celebrated  llarlequm,vwho  can  jump  twenty  feet 
high,  take  the  ceiling  in  his  teeth,  and  hold  on  thereby  sufficiently 
long,  to  enable  him  to  poach  a  dozen  eggs  for  his  supper  by  a 
machine  which  he  takes  up  with  him  for  that  purpose.  His  legs, 
meanwhile,  not  to  be  outdone,  are  to  go  through  all  the  move 
ments  of  the  famous  Tilsit  Waltz,  aiyl  at  the  close  he  professes  to 
be  able  to  shuflle  them  off,  with  his  txtygts,  and  drop  down,  finally, 
with  his  stumps  again  falling  into  the  dismembered  sockets,  as 
truly  as  if  the  position  had  undergone  mathematical  arrange 
ment." 

"  Oh,  nonsense !" 

"Well,  I  doubt  riot  that  the  report  of  his  wonders  is  somewhat 
exaggerated,  but  the  report  is  enough.  It  will  kill  Mam'selle 
most  effectually  for  the  season,  so  that,  to  know  her  in  the  day 
of  her  glory,  you  must  know  her  at  once.  I  shall  look  for  you 
at  12." 


CHAPTER  XI. 

I  WAS  punctual.  The  hour  was  fortunately  chosen.  Mam'selle 
was  in  the  Green  Room  alone.     Her  ugly  little  protector  was 
absent — where,  it  mattered  not  to  me, — so  long  as  he  was  absent ; 
and  I  had  at  length  the  felicity  of  speaking  to  the  fair  creature, 
whom,  hitherto,  I  had  not  been  permitted  to  approach.     My 
address,  I  had  reason  to  believe,  said  little  in  my  favour.     I  was 
flushed,  confused,    agitated.     I   feel    that   I   stammered  while 
speaking  the  most  customary  nonsense ;  and  I  was  so  little  the 
master  of  my  own  faculties,  that  I  could  not  tell  whether  her 
composure  was  less  or  more  than  mine.   But,  in  either  event,  per 
haps,  I  had  no  reason  for  annoyance^     If  the  woman,  in  such  a 
case,  preserves  her  composure — if  she  be  any  thing  of  a  veteran 
in  the  arts  of  life — it  docs  not  displease  her  to  look  on  the  bash- 
fulness  of  the  unsophisticated  heart  of  youth.     There  is  a  compli 
ment  conveyed  by  his  terrors  which  is  grateful,  because  of  its 
freshness,  to  the  heart  which  is  no  longer  so  :  and  if  she  was  not 
composed — if  like  myself  she  trembled  and  was  confounded,  then 
it  followed  that  my  emotion  must  have  escaped  her  sight.     My 
friend,  the  Editor,  congratulated  me  on  my  leaving  the  apartment 
upon  the  obvious  impression  which  I  had  made.     Before  we  left 


THE  PRIMA  DCNXA.  19 

her  the  company  began  to  pour  in — the  various  assemblage  of  a 
good  stock-management.     There  were  others  too,  not  of  the  com 
pany, — who  possessed  the  privileges  of  the  interior— to  whom  the 
wires  might  be  shown,  and  the  mechanism  of  the  magic,  without 
danger.   There  were  the  Editors — a  numerous  tribe — the  writers 
for  the  stage,  some  of  the  proprietors  of  the  establishment,  and  a 
few  of  the  dashing  bloods  of  the  town.   To  all  of  these  the  Prima 
Donna  was  the  eye  of  attraction — the  centre  of  the  solar  system  in 
that  little  world.     I  felt  myself  very  small  and  very  awkward, 
when  I  witnessed  the  dashing  freedom  and  consequential  airs  of 
most  around  me,  as  they  approached  to  converse  with  One. whose 
very  glance  had  so  completely  unsettled  my  nervous  system. — 
Finally,  the  little,  old  Italian,  her  protector,  made  his  appearance, 
and  with  his  entrfa  you  would  have  fancied  that  we  had  sud 
denly  fallen  in  with  a  mountain  of  ice.     Every  thing  was  frigid 
after  his  appearance.     The  dandies  bowed  at  a  more  respectful 
distance,  at  the  object  of  their  previous  devotion,  while  his  little 
fiery  eyes  seemed  to  scrutinize  every  countenance  with  suspicion, 
and  to  find  in  every  movement  abundant  cause  to  congratulate 
himself  on  having  arrived  in  the  very  nick  of  time  to  prevent  the 
worst  of  mischiefs. 

To  me,  he  gave  less  attention  than  I  feared  would  have  fallen 
to  my  lot.  I  had  even  begun  to  think  that  he  failed  to  recognize 
UK;,  UM  should  certainly  have  believed  so,  but  for  a  single  sen- 
ietscf'  '•,  hich  he  uttered  with  a  sinister  grin,  as  we  underwent  the 

lu  forms  of  introduction  to  one  another. 
;*  You  be  love  music,  vera  moch,  sare,  I  remembair,  eh?" 
The  remark  was  simple  in  the  ears  of  all  b^it  the  Prima  Donna 
.\nd  myself.     I  took  care  to  regard  it  as  such  in  the  reply  I  made 
at  the  moment ;  but  I  remembered  it,  and  availed  myself  of  the 
opening  which  it  gave  me — for  purposes  of  explanation — to  call 
upon  the  couple  at  their  residence. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

I  DID  so,  and  found  the  Prima  Donna  alone.  I  was  this  time 
sufficiently  calm  myself,  to  see  that  she  was  terribly  agitated. 
Her  dress  and  whole  appearance  were  disordered.  Her  hair 
had  found  partial  freedom  from  restraint, — her  eyes  were  red  with 
weeping, — and  the  traces  of  recent  tears  were  apparent  upon  her 
pallid  cheeks.  She  met  me  with  a  look  full  of  equal  intelligence 
and  alarm. 

"  Oil !  why,  why  have  you  come  hither?  Leave  me,  leave  me, 
I  implore  you,  sir — it  is  not  well — it  is  not  right ;  and  lie  will  be 
lieve  every  thing  that  is  wrong.  Leave  me,  sir,  leave  me  if 
you  — 


20  THE  PRIMA  DONNA. 

How  would  she  have  finished  that  sentence  had  her  tongue 
not  failed  in  its  oflice  ?  I  had  barely  time  to  form  a  pleasing  con 
jecture  on  the  subject — not  to  answer — when  the  little  old  Italian 
burst  into  the  room,  with  the  fiery,  fearful,  malignant  aspect  of  a 
Sirocco.  The  poor  woman  sank  upon  a  settee  at  his  appearance, 
and  covered  her  face  with  both  her  hands.  The  big  tears  oozed 
through  her  fingers,  and  her  sobs  were  almost  convulsions. 

"  Ila  !  ha  !  what  for  you  conic  to  my  house.  You  lov'  music, 
but  I  break  up  de  music — look  you,  I  break  rp  de  music — 
so  !  so  !—  " 

And  with  the  action  of  a  madman,  seizing  upon  a  guitar 
which  lay  upon  one  of  the  tables,  he  dashed  it  into  a  thousand 
fragments  by  repeated  blows  against  the  elbow  of  the  sofa. 
Then  turning  to  me,  he  exclaimed — 

"•You  is  villain,  sare.  I  is  turn  out,  tree,  five  villain  from  my 
house  dis  day,  and  break  up  de  music.  You  is  great  villain,  and 
you  is  come  to  my  house,— dere  is  no  more  music  in  my  house, 
— what  for  you  is  come,  ch  ?" 

I  had  risen  on  his  entrance.  I  could  scarcely  contain  myself 
during  bis  proceedings.  The  tears  of  the  girl  had  awakened  my 
indignation — his  brutality  scarcely  left  me  prudence  to  forbear 
violence,  which  seemed  to  be  almost  the  duty  of  a  gentleman 
under  existing  circumstances.  Nothing  but  a  consideration  of 
her  claims,  and  the  wretched  relation  in  which  she  stood  to  this 
miserable  tyrant,  kept  my  hands  from  his  throat.  For  her  sake, 
I  subdued  my  tiger, — for  her  sake,  I  strove  to  answer  mildly.  1 
contented  myself  with  saying  that  I  came  to  explain  my  conduct 
in  the  previous  interview  when  he  was  so  much  offended.  But 
the  violent  old  wretch  did  not  allow  me  to  finish  what  I  was 
saying,  lie  gave  me  the  lie  direct. 

"  You  come  for  make  rny  wife  lef '  me,  and  go  wid  you.  You 
tell  lie — you  is  one  villain,  dat  I  shall  make  lef '  my  house  for 


evare.': 


My  blood  was  getting  the  better  of  my  judgment,  when  the 
Prima  Donna  interposed.  She  rose  from  her  seat  with  the 
manner  of  one  who  has  conquered,  but  after  a  violent  effort,  and 
about  whom  still  remain  all  the  traces  of  the  conflict. 

"Oblige  me,  sir,  if  you  please,  by  leaving  the  house;  oblige 
me  still  more  by  avoiding  it,  and  me,  for  ever.  To  acquire  a 
friend  is  with  me  a  misfortune — I  need  one,  how  much,  Heaven 
only  knows — but  I  wish  for  none.  Leave  me,  sir;  and,  in 
going,  believe  me,  that  /  at  least  suspect  you  of  no  evil,  and  am 
as  grateful  to  you  as  if  you  meant  nothing  but  good.  If  you 
fancy  that  you  leave  me  unhappy,  at  least  be  satisfied  that 
nothing  which  you  could  do  or  say  would  have  the  effect  of 
making  me  otherwise." 

"  Ila  !  you  speaks  to  him  in  dis  manner.  You  will  have  me 
kill  you  to  death,  you " 


THE  PRIM  A  DONNA.  21 

I  forbear  to  repeat  the  horrible  epithet  which  the  monster  used 
on  this  occasion.  His  words  provoked  me  to  fury,  but  when  he 
coupled  them  with  a  blow—a  blow  by  his  vile  hands  upon  that 
pure,  sweet,  imploring  and  noble  face, — my  fury  became  vio 
lence.  I  grasped  him  in  my  arms.  I  lifted  him  as  if  he  had 
been  an  infant,  in  spite  of  all  his  struggles.  I  hurried  with  him 
to  the  window,  the  sash  of  which  was  raised,  and  a  moment 
longer  would  have  sufficed  me  to  pitch  him  into  the  street.  But 
my  better  angel,  in  the  aspect  of  the  wretched  woman,  his  vic 
tim,  cnme  to  keep  me  from  a  deed  which  I  might  have  repented 
in  suffering  and  shame.  She  recovered  from  the  blow  which  had 
staggered  her  against  the  wall,  and  grasped  my  arm  in  season. 
I  put  the  reptile  down  unharmed  upon  the  lloor,  and  he  seized 
the  first  moment  of  his  liberty  to  hurry  from  the  apartment,  not 
without  giving  a  glance  at  the  woman,  which  spoke  volumes  of 
treasured  bitterness  and  revenue. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

Mr  situation  was  now  one  of  considerable  awkwardness,  and 
it  did  not  lessen  my  annoyance  to  reflect  that  it  was  one  into 
which  I  had  been  hurried  by  my  own  unregulated  passions  and 
imprudent  vanity.  But  this  was  no  moment  for  reflections  such 
as  these.  It  was  evident  that  I  now  had  no  business  there,  even 
if  the  business  had  been  legitimate  which  had  carried  me  there 
at  first.  To  remain  longer  in  the  house  of  one  who  had  ordered 
my  departure  in  language  of  brutality,  and  whose  conduct  had 
provoked  me  to  violence,  was  surely  against  all  received  rules  of 
gentility.  And  yet,  how  to  leave  the  poor  woman  to  his  rage? 
Would  lie  not  wreak  upon  her  weak  person  and  unoffending 
head,  all  the  venom  which  would  be  idly  shown  against  the 
bosom  of  superior  manhood  ?  This  was  my  apprehension — the 
apprehension  that  made  me  linger, — it  was  evident  that  the  Prima 
Donna,  herself,  was  not  entirely  without  it. 

"  Do  not— do  not  leave  me,"  she  exclaimed  passionately,  as 
she  beheld  his  departure,  while  with  hands  clasped  in  something 
like  a  mortal  agony  of  fear,  she  approached  me.  "  He  will  soon 
return — he  is  terrible  in  his  anger — he  will  do  some  dreadful  act." 

"Fear  nothing — I  will  protect — I  will  stand  by  you  to  the 
last." 

I  spoke  with  the  look  and  language  of  a  knight  of  the  middle 
ages.  Forgetful  of  the  matter-of-fact  and  every -day  character  of 
the  busy  world  around  me — the  age  of  money-changers  and  their 
greatest  mart, — I  was  hurried  away  by  my  boyish  feelings,  and 
utterly  lost  in  the  seventh  heaven  of  heroism.  I  would  have 
taken  her  hand  in  mine  as  I  addressed  her;  but  the  attempt 


22  THE  PRIMA  DONNA. 

brought  about  an  instant  change  in  her  manner.  The  fear  of 
doing,  seemed  suddenly  greater  than  that  of  suffering,  wrong ; 
and  in  tears  no  less  energetic  if  less  passionate  than  before,  she 
now  entreated  my  departure. 

"  Go,  for  God's  sake,  and  leave  me,  leave  me  for  ever.  I  do 
not  blame  you — no,  no  !  But  you  cannot  know  the  mischief 
you  have  done.  My  husband  will  never  forgive  me  for  this 
folly ;  and  every  moment  of  your  longer  stay  will  increase  the 
difficulties,  perhaps  the  dangers,  in  my  way." 

I  told  her  there  should  be  no  difficulties — no  dangers— -that  I 
would  stand  by  and  shield  her  from  all  harm.  At  that  moment 
I  felt  myself  equal  to  every  danger  ;  and  would  have  faced  the 
giant  Ascaparte  himself  in  her  battle.  But  she  knew  her  own 
relation  to  her  jealous  liege,  and  resolutely  insisted  upon  my 
departure.  I  lingered  until  longer  delay  would  have  been  im 
pertinence,  and  then  prepared  to  comply  with  her  demand.  But 
before  leaving  I  proffered  my  assistance  in  the  event  of  any 
further  difficulty.  I  put  my  card  into  her  hand.  She  calmly 
tore  it  into  fragments  which  she  threw  into  the  grate. 

"  No,  sir,  no  :  I  thank  you,  but  you  can  render  me  no  help — I. 
shall  need  no  assistance.  I  only  ask  you  not  to  see  me — not  to 
know  me  any  more.  Forget  that  you  have  ever  seen  me." 

"  Impossible !" 

She  silenced  my  raptures  by  an  impatient  movement  of  her 
hand,  and  the  sad  sorrow  of  her  countenance  was  exchanged  to 
an  expression  of  dignified  purity,  as  she  thus  rebuked  my  ex 
travagance.  My  passion  yielded  to  respect.  Her  beauty  and 
talent  aroused  the  one — her  virtuous  and  becoming  conduct 
commanded  the  other.  I  bowed  and  was  turning  away,  when, 
as  if  moved  by  some  fear  that  her  sternness  had  given  pain,  her 
features  softened — she  advanced — gave  me  her  hand  for  a  mo 
ment,  then  left  me  hurriedly  for  an  inner  chamber. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

I  FIND  it  difficult  for  me  to  close  this  narrative.  The  events 
startle  myself  as  I  recall  them  with  an  air  of  utter  improbability ; 
— and  yet  I  know  them  to  be  true,  ar.d  how  many  share  my 
knowledge.  The  next  week  the  famous  Prima  Donna — she  who 
had  been  the  orb  of  loveliest  attraction,  rising  nightly  in  song 
and  splendour  before  the  eyes  of  the  whole  city — the  next  week 
she  had  not  only  survived  her  glory,  but  was  a  corpse  !  She 
went  to  rehearsal  the  morning  after  the  scene  which  I  have  just 
described  was  over  ;  and,  though  indisposed,  she  played  success 
fully  that  night.  I  saw  her,  and  saw  that  there  was  a  serious 
sickness  in  her  system ;  but  I  ascribed  the  sickness  rather  to  her 


THE  TRIMA  DONNA.  23 

soul  than  to  her  body — to  that  poor  heart— so  fond,  so  young,  so 
tender,  so  attractive, — sacrificed  in  the  jfirst  hour  of  its  maiden 
dawn  to  such  a  dreadful  tyranny  as  that  from  which  she  suffered. 
For  two  nights  after,  being  those  of  Saturday  and  Sunday,  I  saw 
nothing  of  her.  Monday  night  she  was  announced  to  play,  hut 
her  malady  had  increased — she  did  not  appear,  and  her  absence 
was  accounted  for  by  the  manager.  Tuesday  produced  a  crisis 
in  her  professional  fortunes.  The  great  harlequin,  who  'could 
jump  twenty  feet  and  take  the  ceiling  in  his  teeth,  made  his 
appearance  that  night  with  wondrous  eclat,  and  the  Prima 
Donna,  as  my  friend  the  editor  had  predicted,  was  almost  as 
much  forgotten  as  if  she  had  never  been.  The  next  morning 
she  was  dead  !  The  terrible  annunciation  came  to  me,  while  at 
the  breakfast-table,  in  the  morning  papers  : 

"Mysterious.     We  are  told,  just  as  our  paper  was  going  to 

press,  that  Mam'selle ,  the  lady  who  has  been  making 

such  a  sensation  in  the  musical  circles  of  our  city  for  the  last  ten 
days,  died  suddenly  last  night,  at  the  house  of  her  protector, 

Mons. ,  in 's  Place.    There  are  some  circumstances 

connected  with  this  event  which  have  awakened  the  suspicions 
of  the  police.  An  examination  by  the  coroner  takes  place  at  an 
early  hour  this  morning.  The  lady  was  young,  very  pretty,  and 
singularly  well  constituted  for  the  part  of  Prima  Donna  in  the 
company  to  which  she  was  attached.  She  was  acknowledged 

by  Mons. ,  to  be  his  wife,  and  her  virtue  is  stated  to  be 

beyond  reproach,  though,  we  understand,  it  has  not  been  without 
suspicion.  We  trust  for  the  credit  of  our  city,  that  her  death 
will  be  found  to  have  taken  place  according  to  the  ordinary 
events  of  nature." 

What  a  shock  did  I  feel  when  I  read  this  paragraph.  I  felt  as 
if  sight  had  been  suddenly  deprived  me  ;  but  I  recovered  instantly 
to  the  most  acute  excitement  of  feeling.  I  darted  up  from  the 
table,  hurried  to  my  chamber,  put  myself  in  condition  to  go  forth, 
and  reached  the  dwelling  of  the  lovely  victim  in  time  for  the  ex 
amination.  I  too  had  my  suspicions  of  foul  play,  and  in  my 
heart  I  swore  that  the  malignant  wretch  who  claimed  to  be  her 
husband,  and  who,  I  felt  sure,  must  have  been  her  murderer, 
should  not  escape  from  the  talons  of  justice  and  a  just  punish 
ment,  if  my  vigilance  could  fix  them  upon  him. 

A  crowd  was  already  assembled,  and  the  coroner  busy  in  tell 
ing  out  jurors  for  the  examination.  The  corpse  of  the  victim  was 
placed  at  length  upon  a  table.  The  eyes  v/ere  closed — the  fea 
tures  composed — she  had  died  seemingly  without  a  struggle,  and 
this  appeared  to  prove  that  she  had  died  without  pain.  The 
presumptions  were,  accordingly,  in  favour  of  the  supposition  that 
her  death  hadt>een  natural.  Not  a  muscle  seemed  out  of  place, 
governed  by  extreme  tension,  or  strained  in  the  slightest  particu 
lar.  The  blood-vessels  of  the  neck  and  forehead  were  charged 


24  THE  PRIMA  DONNA. 

fully,  and  shone,— oh,  how  freshly  with  life  and  beauty, — through 
the  clean  transparent  whiteness  of  her  skin.  I  could  have  bent 
down,  amidst  all  that  crowd,  and  pressed  my  lips  upon  those 
rigid  features  which  had  teemed,  but  a  few  days  before,  with  all 
that  was  pure,  and  sweet,  and  charming,  in  my  sight. 

The  examination  led  to  no  discoveries,  though  it  was  conducted 
with  considerable  closeness  and  sagacity.  The  coroner  was 
familiar  with  his  duties,  and  not  disposed  to  pretermit  their  exer 
cise.  He  was  acute  in  his  inquiries  and  closely  observant  of  the 
persons  who  were  examined  as  witnesses.  Among  these  was 

Mons. .     His  features,  now  passionless  and  cold,  dark  yet 

inexpressive,  confirmed  the  impressions  of  my  own  bosom  that 
he  was  guilty  of  her  death.  How  was  it  that  he,  who,  while  she 
lived,  had  been  jealous  to  madness  of  all  her  movements,  should 
so  soon,  so  suddenly,  lose  all  interest  in  her  fate,  unless  he  him 
self  knew  the  fitting  solution  of  the  mystery.  This,  though  to 
me  conclusive,  of  the  one  conviction,  was  quite  as  conclusive  with 
all  around  me  of  his  innocence.  His  composure  was  in  his 
favour.  Strange  enough  !  as  if  a  man  who  was  innocent  of  her 
murder,  could  have  looked  with  composure,  upor.  the  inanimate 
form  of  one  who  had  lately  slept  upon  his  bosom,  whose  eyes 
had  gleamed  with  fire,  whose  cheeks  with  youth — whose  voice 
had  sent  forth  such  heavenward  aspirations  of  tenderness  and 
love. 

A  cautious  verdict  of  the  jury  finished  the  investigation.  She 
"  died  from  the  visitation  of  God."  True  :  death  from  any  cause, 
however  strange, — however  hurried — is  still  a  visitation  of  God 
— God  in  that  form  of  power  which  is  most  terrible  to  man.  The 
glance  of  dire  enmity  and  malignant  hate  which  the  Italian  shot 
towards  me  from  his  half-shut  eyes,  as  the  verdict  was  declared, 
convinced  me,  not  the  less,  however,  that  she  died  also  from  the 
"  visitation  of  the  devil."  His  black  heart  had  decreed  her  doom 
— his  viperous  hands  had  compassed  it — his  Italian  art  had  en 
abled  him  to  do  so  with  impunity.  "After  life's  fitful  fever  she 
sleeps  well !" — The  murderer  still  lives,  but  is  he,  therefore,  the 
less  a  token  of  God's  eternal  justice  ?  Has  he  escaped  punish 
ment  ?  Is  he  safe  ?  No  !  no  !  The  hangman  is  for  ever  present 
to  his  imagination — fear  dogs  his  foots',  eps — he  is  haunted  by  the 
hounds  of  terror — he  breathes  the  breath  of  sleepless  apprehen 
sion — bitterness  is  in  the  bread  he  eats,  and  venom  in  the  cup 
from  which  he  drinks.  He  lives  a  prolonged  form  of  death,  only 
too  happy  if  it  could  be  that  he  might  not  live  for  ever. 


THE    END. 


